I beat the crotch!

Though, in the end, I suppose the crotch was also a victor.

Evangeline Lynne is here. Katie and bro-in-law Gary waited a bit to settle on a name (though Dan spread a pretty far-reaching Facebook rumor that her name was Eunice Gertrude and that she was close to fourteen pounds at birth...she was eight pounds three ounces) but the kid came home a titled person. Despite my flight out of Boston being delayed an hour, and having only twenty minutes to sprint through the Atlanta airport to catch my connecting flight to Dayton, and a cab driver who didn’t seem to understand the significance of ten centimeters dilated and pushing, I made it to the hospital in time for the birth. Though Katie and Gary seemed shocked by this, given the fact that Katie had been in labor for four day and at the hospital since the night before, I was certain the universe was working to get me there in time. Between my telepathic directives to my unborn niece to wait me out and having a sense that Gigi was pulling all the strings, I just knew it was going to play out exactly as it did and, indeed, I was in the hospital room the moment little Eva Lynne inhabited a body and came to earth. Four days of labor is not a pretty tale no matter the ending, but Katie and Eva are healthy and well as is the rest of their crew. A family has grown in size and happiness.

Today I held my little bundled niece and wondered aloud, “Who are you going to be?” and it’s such a point of curiosity for me. Of course she already is, in many ways, who she is going to be---but who is that? Who just entered our lives to change and shape our world in her unique way? And what way will that be?

I’ve been a witness to two births and one death in the last ten months; the richest of years in sorrow and joy. Holding a newborn---a new person in the room where there wasn’t one before---feels like the closest proximity, the closest connection to that which we don’t know. That other world. But I have to say, I felt the same way about my mom dying at times. Like I was just as near to that which is---in a different way (or is it the same?)--- miraculous. The last night my mom spent at the hospital, about ten days before she died, laying in her bed in and out of sleep, she told me that she felt the presence of others in the room. She laughed even, saying I probably thought she sounded crazy but she felt them touching her fingers playfully. When I asked her if they scared her, she said no.

“They’re guiding me,” she said.

When I speak of a year rich with sorrow and joy, I’m not sure which category this story falls under. I feel as grateful to play with the little matchstick fingers of my new niece as I am to have seen my mom laughing about the unseen playing with her hands. Grateful to have been able to go that far with her.

It’s moments like these that I am remembering now. Those which were too painful to recount for some months. All I want now is to remember, so I’m going back even as things move along.

Katie and Gary are sleepless---balancing the needs of a two-year-old and a three-day-old with their own food, rest and showering requirements. I am equal parts envious and relieved that this is not my life. When the babies cry at the same time, that ratio shifts. I feed Savvy pad thai, empty the dishwasher and reheat Katie’s cup of coffee when I can, trying to make myself useful.

I’ll leave here Wednesday and have a handful of days to unpack, sleep with my husband (get your heads outta the gutta...or don't), and put a few things in order before heading to my sister Bec’s to stay and watch Molly for a stretch while she and Jeff are in Hawaii.

I feel like I’m heading from family member to family member right now---painting walls, reading books to nuggets, holding babies. I’m not patting myself on the back here; none of this is up to me.

I’m touching miracles again (my island retreat, the lips of a newborn) for one reason:

She’s guiding me.


Swaddling a miracle. (Mother and child photos are pending final approval so an auntie and child photo will have to do.)